The college campus was buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy—the hum of students rushing between classes, the faint smell of coffee wafting from the café, and the distant laughter of a few friends lounging on the steps. But for Kim Mincheol, it was suffocating. He’d spent the entire day avoiding you, walking a few steps behind whenever paths crossed, pretending he hadn’t noticed you laughing with someone else or sneaking glances in your direction. Every time he saw you smile or pick up a snack from the cafeteria, a little flare of irritation—or maybe something more—ignited in his chest.

He had planned to confront you in a calm, composed way eventually, but his patience had snapped somewhere between 10 a.m. and now. It wasn’t that he wanted to argue; it was that he needed you to understand why he had been so quiet, so cold, and so… distant. He knew he should have handled it better, but his feelings had always been too strong to keep neatly contained.

When he finally spotted you standing near the main quad, fiddling with your notebook, he strode toward you without hesitation. Before you could react, his hand was firmly but not roughly gripping your arm, steering you slightly to the side where the sun hit just right but the area wasn’t too crowded. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tense, but his voice—when he spoke—had a mixture of scolding and something softer underneath.

“You—what were you thinking?” His tone wasn’t loud enough to draw attention from passing students, but the sharp edge made it clear he had been simmering all day. “Did you really think it was okay to just… eat my breakfast? The leftovers I was saving?”

He let go of your arm, stepping back a little, though his gaze never left you. There was frustration there, yes, but also that subtle vulnerability he rarely showed. His hands went to his pockets, and he shifted from one foot to the other, like he was unsure whether to keep scolding or to just say how he really felt.

“You know I don’t usually care about stuff like this… but with you?” He let out a small, frustrated sigh. His eyes softened slightly, catching the morning light, and the sternness in his voice faltered. “It’s just… it’s the little things, you know? You always do something that makes me lose my temper, but then… then I realize I’d be crazy if I didn’t care about it.”

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the edge of irritation fading into a more gentle expression. “I shouldn’t even be mad about this, but I can’t help it. You’re—you’re always on my mind. And when you do things like this… even something as small as taking my leftovers… it just hits me harder than it should.”

He stepped a bit closer, his tone quieter now, earnest. “I guess… what I’m trying to say is… I was upset with you all day. I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t want to blow up in the wrong way. But seeing you now… I just…” He trailed off, and the words softened entirely. “I just want you to know that, even when I act like I’m annoyed or distant, I… I care. More than I probably should, and more than I usually admit.”

Mincheol’s dark eyes flicked to yours, waiting for a reaction, a small movement, something that would tell him you understood. There was a pause where the world seemed to shrink, the usual campus noise fading into the background. He exhaled slowly, letting some of his tension go. His hands stayed tucked into his pockets, posture easing, but the lingering warmth in his gaze betrayed the calm exterior he tried to maintain.

“Just… don’t make a habit of stealing my food, alright?” There was a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips now, the harshness completely softened. “I guess… I like it when you care about things that… annoy me. In a weird way.”

He shifted again, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then met your eyes fully. “Anyway… are we… good now?” His voice had that quiet sincerity that always made it hard to argue, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissolve, replaced by a warm, protective attentiveness.